


I wasn't expecting that

by swimmiNgDiNosauR



Series: Melinda May fluff and random stuff [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Fighting, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-19 04:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14229477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimmiNgDiNosauR/pseuds/swimmiNgDiNosauR
Summary: Skye forgets that Melinda doesn't look like her, so when they have to go into a bar with a sign in the window, she's shocked when Melinda isn't treated nicely.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Really sorry if this offends anyone, it's not intentional.

 

Melinda walks behind her team, her hands in her jacket pockets. She looks around, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be following them. Coulson stops them in front of the bar that the target is supposedly in and pretends to read the menus taped to the windows. He comes across an A4 sign with large black letters. **Whites Only**. He frowns.

“That’s not very nice,” he says, awkwardly looking at Melinda.

Melinda’s gaze snaps to him and he nods towards the sign. Her team stares at the ground, not sure what to do. They haven’t encountered anything like this before. She finds the sign and her eyes harden. She sets her jaw and takes her hands out of her pockets.

“Well, ain’t this wonderful,” a voice behind them says.

Melinda ignores them and walks into the bar.

“Hey!” the voice yells. “You ain’t allowed in there.”

The inside of the bar is dark. The lights aren’t working properly, the one in the corner flickering on and off. The lights are hanging down from chains, about two metres from the floor. The food looks greasy and inedible. The tables are carved into and the chairs are rickety, the legs different sizes. Pictures of slavery and war hang from the walls and somebody’s scrawled an ugly message into the wooden wall. She can see the cook from the doorway, whistling to himself. There’s a pile of dirty pots and pans in the sink. Something’s burning. Overweight waiters waddle around, checking everyone’s happy. She lifts her chin and sits down at an empty table. Her team is still outside. Coulson comes in and sits next to her and slowly the rest of them drift in.

The manager comes over. He glares at Melinda through cold blue eyes. His blond hair is cropped so close to his skull it looks brown. He’s tall, maybe six feet, reasonably well built with tattoos up and down his arms. They peek out over the collar of his blue pin-striped shirt. His arms and neck are tan.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” he asks.

“Can I see the menu, please?” Melinda requests instead, looking him in the eye.

“We don’t allow your type in here,” he scowls.

Melinda repeats herself, more forcefully. She ignores Bobbi’s snort. The manager sneers at her.

“Get out,” he growls.

Melinda leans back in her chair and doesn’t say anything. Everyone is looking their way now.

“No,” she says. She stands up and crosses her arms. She has to tilt her head to look up at him. “You get out.”

He swears at her then and she swears back like a wharfie. He looks surprised that she could say something so filthy. She gives him an icy glare.

“Last chance, chink,” he leers.

Skye inhales sharply. She’s heard that word used before when she was living on the streets.

Melinda’s eyes narrow. “No,” she repeats.

He smirks. “Well then, I’ll just have to make you.” He grabs her arm and tries to force her out the door, but she knees him in the balls and when he goes to double over, she jams her elbow into his nose. He yells out in pain, cradling his nose. It’s not bleeding yet. “You little bitch,” he growls.

Melinda just rolls her eyes. He charges at her. She jumps and grabs the light’s chain and yanks her legs up just as he runs past. He crashes into the table. Coulson stops the table with a quick move. He stands up and plants himself between the manager and Melinda. They both glare at each other.

“I’m going to have to ask you to stand down,” Coulson says politely.

The manager looks at Coulson in disbelief. “Are you serious? You saw the sign. She has no right to be in here.”

“Are you gonna stop me?” Melinda taunts. She wants a fight. She _needs_ a fight. She wants to feel the adrenalin rush, feel her heart beating again.

“May,” Coulson says quietly.

“Because I’d like to see you try,” she continues.

“Oh my god,” Bobbi mutters. Then she steps into the mess. The manager lands on his face.

“Bobbi, perhaps you should stay out of this,” Hunter says, glancing at Melinda, who looks pure evil.

Bobbi sighs, but she steps back. The manager gets to his feet and scowls at her.

“She isn’t allowed in here,” he tries again.

“ _She_ has a name,” Melinda says lightly.

“I can call you whatever I want,” he says, looking down at her.

Melinda ducks around Coulson and plants herself in front of him. “Go on, then. Hit me.”

“Oh, for…” she hears Coulson say.

The manager grins. He goes to punch Melinda but she sidesteps.

“That the best you got?” she scoffs.

He rumbles in annoyance. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

Melinda snorts. “That’s news. C’mon, I’ll go easy on you.”

The manager unleashes his anger on her, getting fuelled on by the cheers of his buddies. Melinda is barely trying. She waits until he tries to choke her, hands going for her neck. She dodges around him and grabs his arm, twisting it. She kicks his feet out from underneath him and bends his arm back until he yells. She looks up.

“Anyone else?” she asks, blowing her hair out of her face.

“You _bitch_!” the manager swears.

Melinda closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. Then she slams his head on the floor.

“Melinda,” Coulson says quietly. “I think he’s out suspect.”

“Oh, really? Well, that just makes my day even better,” she says sarcastically. She pulls the dazed man up from the floor and Coulson handcuffs him.

“I object,” the manager slurs.

“What’s your name?” Coulson asks, steering him out the door.

The manager doesn’t answer, just glares at Melinda. “You _*beep*_ chink. Contaminating America.” He spits at her. “Refugee.”  

Melinda rolls her eyes, speaking Chinese purely to wind her up. “Wǒ bùshì nànmín.” _I am not a refugee_.

He glowers at her.

“Cāo nǐ,” she swears at him. _Fuck you_.

None of her team speaks fluent Chinese but she’s fairly sure Bobbi and Hunter know a few basic phrases.

“Filth,” he insults. “Can you even see?”

Melinda snarls Chinese curses at him.

Skye flinches away. Melinda swearing in Chinese is terrifying. It’s not the words, as such, it’s how her voice takes on a low, throaty growl, making it even scarier.

“Alright, mate, that’s enough,” Hunter says. “We’ve tolerated your bullshit for this long, but it’s time to zip it now.”

“What, you’re all siding with her?” he asks, actually genuinely surprised. “She doesn’t deserve you. She’s just a no-good, bottom of the ground, dirty, Japanese illegal refugee–”

“ _What_ did you just call me?” Melinda says dangerously, eyes flashing.

The guy smirks. “I said, you’re a no-good, bottom of–”

“I am _Chinese_. Not Japanese. Not Korean. _Chinese_ ,” she snaps. Of all the things she hates, the one that annoys her most is people getting her race mixed up.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says sarcastically. “What do you even want me for?”

“Illegal arms dealing,” Coulson says simply.

“I’m sure she could tell you everything you need to know about that,” the manager says. “She probably came over with guns.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Skye says angrily, leaping to Melinda’s defence. “That person you keep insulting? She is the best person I’ve ever known. That’s _Agent Melinda May_. She’ll kick your ass in her sleep, you piece of crap. _You_ don’t deserve to even look at her. So shut your goddamn mouth before she really loses her cool because I wouldn’t blame if she landed you in the hospital.”

“Freedom to speech,” the manager says smugly. “It’s in the First Amendment.”

“The First Amendment my ass. It’s gonna land you in the hospital and it’s our word against yours so just think about that before you speak,” Skye lashes out.

The manager looks suitably cowed so Melinda only breaks his nose.

“He’s not our guy,” Melinda says.

“How do you know?” Coulson asks.

Melinda smirks. “Because an arms dealer would have to fight better than him.”

The manager kicks her shin. Melinda raises her eyebrows.

“Well, thank you very much,” she grins devilishly before sending him to the ground with broken ribs and a broken arm.

Coulson stops Melinda before she does any more harm. “Scram,” he tells the man harshly.

“What about your handcuffs?” he complains.

Melinda pulls her gun out of her pocket and aims it at him. He turns tail and flees. She snickers. She walks onwards but her team stays put. She looks back and frowns.

“What?” she asks.

“Do people really treat you like that?” Skye asks in a small voice.

Melinda suddenly realises why they’ve stopped. “I can handle it.”

“But do they?” Skye asks again.

She shrugs. “Sometimes. It’s not a big deal.”

Coulson stares at her, jaw wide open. “It’s not a big deal?! Of course it’s a big deal. It’s racist. It’s mean and you don’t deserve it.”

Melinda walks back to them. “Thanks for your concern, but I can handle it.”

“Of course you can,” Skye mutters. “Just like everything else.” She isn’t expecting Melinda to hug her. Especially not so tightly.

“Thank you,” she mumbles. “It means a lot.”

Skye hugs Melinda back just as fiercely. “You’re welcome.”

 

They don’t talk about the incident. No one jokes about it, not even Hunter. Everyone seems to think it’s taboo. Melinda gets sick of this behaviour soon enough and she creates a slideshow. She calls them all to the meeting room under the pretence of their suspect. They all hurry in, falling silent when they see her unimpressed expression.

“All of you,” she begins, “Are idiots. You are all far too cautious for SHIELD agents.” She starts the presentation. The first slide has a picture of Bobbi. It’s her SHIELD file photo. Melinda has drawn arrows and written down everything that makes Bobbi look like Bobbi. The second slide is Skye, then Coulson, then Hunter, then FitzSimmons and she’s found a way to make them one person with different halves of their faces. The last slide is her. Across her face in bold, she’s typed **CHINESE**. She glares at them. “It is not taboo. People are racist. I am not American and you all look like you are.

"I look different to you all. I have brown skin and you have godawful skin that burns the _minute_ you step into the sun - Coulson especially, my eyes are slanted, my nose isn’t pointy like yours. This isn’t racist and you can stop acting like such cowards.”

Skye raises her hand.

“What?” Melinda asks, almost coldly.

“You forgot the most important one,” Skye says, trying to keep a straight face. “You’re tiny.” She smirks. “Pipsqueak.”

Melinda glares. She climbs onto the holotable which she probably shouldn’t because it’s techy and stuff. They all stare at her in surprise, not expecting her to be so childish. Well, Coulson’s not so surprised, considering he knew her before Bahrain better than anyone else.

“Who’s short now?” she teases.

Skye’s jaw hits the floor. “Okay, that’s just not fair,” when she manages to pull herself together.

“So now that we’re allowed to talk about that asshole,” Hunter says, “Did anyone else notice that he was like, double our dear Melinda here’s height?”

“Screw you,” Melinda scowls and she kicks him in the face because she can reach.

Hunter clutches his nose.

“Melinda,” Coulson chides.

Melinda swipes for the next slide on her presentation and a photo of Coulson comes up wearing a purple bunny onesie.

“Melinda,” Coulson complains, ears red.

“You look amazing, A.C,” Skye crows, snapping a picture of it on her phone.

“Delete it,” Coulson grumbles.

“No way,” Skye grins. “I’m keeping this. Blackmail, ya know?”

Coulson scowls at Melinda. “You suck.”

“You’re cute,” she teases, crouching down and patting him on the head. “Good boy.”

He glares at her and yanks her off the table. She lets out a yelp.

“I almost kissed you,” she whines. “That’s disgusting.”

Coulson laughs and kisses her cheek, spinning her in his arms. “You’ll manage, I’m sure.” He frowns remembering something. Then a look of annoyance comes over his face. “Did you know that asshole tried to sue you?”

Melinda blinks. “No. How’d he even know my name?”

“I said your name,” Coulson admits. “But there’s a hell of a lot of Melinda’s in the world.”

Melinda shrugs. “Oh well. I know how to dispose of someone without anyone knowing.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t say that in front of the kids,” Coulson suggests, looking at FitzSimmons who are staring at Melinda in horror.

“I can teach them if they want,” Melinda offers. It’s a skill she thinks everyone should have at least some idea of how to do it.

“No thank you very much,” Fitz says almost immediately.

Melinda smirks.

 

After her slideshow, it goes back to normal. At least, that’s what she thinks. She hears Skye pacing outside her bunk at two in the morning and sighs. She can’t be bothered getting up. If Skye wants to come in, she can. She hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in months now; she’s not letting Skye ruin her attempts.

“Melinda?” a small voice whispers from outside the door.

“Close the door behind you,” she yells into her pillow, making her almost unintelligible.

Skye comes in quietly, shutting the door with a soft click. She hesitates before she reaches Melinda’s bed. Melinda sits up and fumbles in the dark for the lamp. Once she finds it, the dim glow casts a warm light across the room.

“What is it?” she asks, sitting cross-legged on her bed. She stifles a yawn and pats the spot beside her.

Skye sits down nervously. “Do people really treat you like that?” she blurts.

Melinda stiffens. So this is what this is about. She thought everyone had gotten over this.

“I can handle it,” she says, repeating what she told Skye the last time.

“I know you can handle it,” Skye says, sounding cross, “But that wasn’t what I asked.”

Melinda falls silent, staring at the ground.

“Hey,” Skye says softly, making her look at her. “I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable or anything for you. I just… You’re _you_. I keep forgetting you’re not American. You’re just so…” She trails off, at a loss for words.

“Amazing?” Melinda suggests.

“ _There_ ,” Skye says instead. “You’re just always there and you do everything and no one notices or even realises and then we go out into the real world and people…” She sniffs. “People are horrible to you. Like that time you got catcalled and they wouldn’t stop and just kept following you around.”

Melinda’s lips twitch. “I explained to their mothers what they were doing. Suffice to say, they won’t be doing it again.”

Skye laugh-cries. “And you don’t even care. It’s just another thing and it shouldn’t be, it should make you angry and annoyed but you just didn’t even try when you fought that dickhead.”

Melinda doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know what to say. She rests her head on Skye’s shoulder and fiddles with the hem of her shirt. Eventually, Skye wraps an arm around her shoulder.

“It’s never happened to me,” she says. “And I’m half-Chinese. Why’s that?”

“’Cause you speak like an American, you walk like an American, you act like an American and because you’re also half-American,” Melinda says tiredly. She does a spot-on imitation of Skye and her American accent.

“Aw, cute,” Skye coos, ruffling Melinda’s hair. “You’re just a cuddly fluffball, aren’t you?”

Melinda swears at her but she doesn’t move.

“Hey!” Skye mock scolds. Then she falls quiet and Melinda feels the light-heartedness drift away. “I hope it never happens to you again.”

“Wishful thinking,” Melinda says.

Skye sits up sharply. Melinda blinks in surprise. She’d been enjoying Skye’s shoulder. She eyes her cautiously. When Skye launches herself at her, she yelps and jumps away. Turns out it’s only a hug. She bangs her head on the wall and lets Skye cackle. She hugs Skye back.

“I’ll shoot them next time,” she promises, and the fact that she says next time with such certainty makes Skye scowl.

“There won’t _be_ a next time,” Skye vows.

Melinda snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course there will be. You can’t just rid the world of all the racist, sexist, homophobic people.”

“Wanna watch me?” Skye challenges.

“You are not blasting them into outer space, Skye. We talked about this.”


	2. Mama May to the rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Skye's turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Guest for giving me this idea. Sorry if it isn't what you wanted. Hope you like it. :D

Skye walks down the street, looking for a nice place for lunch. She’s been given the day off as thanks to all her hard work stapling pieces of paper together. At least, that was what Coulson had told her. She stops outside a small café and looks in. The place seems to be warm an inviting, unlike the weather outside. She wraps her arms around herself tighter in a futile attempt to protect herself from the gusting wind. Leaves blow past her, a few getting caught in her hair. She picks them out and opens the door to the café. She breathes out in content. Warmth. Her hands start defrosting and she goes to the menu board.

“Can I have a blueberry muffin and coffee, milk, two sugars, please?” she asks politely, rubbing her hands together to speed up the defrosting process.

The cashier nods. “Do you want the muffin warmed?”

Skye shakes her head. She’s starving and can’t wait another minute for food. The guy gives her the muffing and a number to take to her table. She picks out a table near the back. A few minutes later, the guy comes over with her coffee. She nods her thanks and lets the coffee warm her body on its way into her stomach.

She’s about to start on the second half of her muffin when a gang of men trudge into the café, bringing mud and leaves with them. She shivers as the gust of wind hits her before the door closes. She tries to eat faster, not wanting to be in the same place as them. She keeps her head down and finishes her muffin. She gulps the rest of her coffee and stacks her cup on her plate. She’s too late. Two of the men have started walking towards her. They sit down at her table which is really only meant for two but they make it work.

“Hey, girl,” one of them leers. He’s big and ugly with a crooked nose that looks like it’s been broken one too many times. She can see black tattoos swirling up and around his bald head. She swallows. She can’t remember May’s training. “What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ all alone?”

“Oh, I’m just waiting for my girlfriend,” she lies, reaching her hand into her pocket and dialling May. She prays she’s pressed the right numbers and taps call. Or at least, she hopes she does. She can’t see her phone. She smiles awkwardly.

The men exchange glances. The rest of their gang comes over and stands or sits around her.

“You’re one of them?” the bald tattooed man asks.

“One of what?” Skye asks in confusion, although she has an idea of where this is going.

“A _dyke_ ,” he sneers. “And a useless one at that. Look at you, all cowering and scared.”

“Are you even from here?” another one of them asks, even though she’s speaking with an American accent. “Frickin’ refugees sneaking over and stealing our jobs.”

“I … I was born here,” Skye says in a small voice.

He scoffs. “Yeah, course you were. What are you, Korean? Chinese?”

Skye just stares at them, feeling a burning in her gut. Is this what May had felt like when those racists had sneered at her?

“Chinese,” she snaps with a new-found confidence. She can feel her phone buzzing. May must have sensed something was wrong when she called her and then didn’t answer. “And can you leave me alone?”

“Aw, sweetheart, we’re just teasing,” one of them reassures her. He’s got thick red hair and a red beard. He’s probably the biggest out of the lot of them.

She sees the cashier talking to the manager behind them. The manager comes over and clears his throat.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave now,” he says in a clear voice. “This young lady clearly doesn’t want you here.”

The redhead just gives him a dark look. “What’re you talkin’ ’bout. Course she wants us here. Prob’ly the most attention she’s got all her life, what with her bein’ a chink an’ all.”

Skye stands up, her chair scraping the floor. “Hey!” They turn to face her and she feels like maybe she should have just ran while they weren’t paying attention to her. “If you’ve got a problem with that, then you should go find something else to do.”

“Ooh, feisty,” one of them taunts. He’s got thin brown hair and cold green eyes. “Just take her, man.”

Skye feels her phone buzzing again. She tries to answer it but they stop her.

“Got somewhere to be?” they ask. “Gonna drive home all alone, without us?”

“Pfft, she can’t drive,” the redhead snorts. “Look at her eyes, I mean, really, ya can’t see a thing out of those.”

Skye just stares at him in shock at his stupidity. Does he even realise how stupid he sounds?

“I’ve been driving for like, ten years,” she says, “I’ve never had an accident.”

They laugh and jeer at her, criticising her for being Chinese. She punches one of them in the face when they start insulting her fake girlfriend and kicks another in the nuts. They overpower her quickly and crowd around her.

“I really must insist you leave her alone,” the manager tries again but they just shove him away.

“She wants it,” the redhead tells him. “Look at her.”

“I’m going to call the police if you don’t leave her alone,” the manager threatens and Skye sees his Adam’s apple bob up and down nervously, betraying his calm composure.

“That won’t be necessary,” a new voice says coldly.

The manager steps back, grateful for the assistance.

Skye can’t help but laugh when she sees May. “You came,” she grins.

Melinda gives her a small nod and then rests her glare on the redhead. He sneers at her.

“What’s a little thing like you gonna do?”

Melinda snarls, “A hell of a lot more than you can.” She launches into action, jumping over the table and kicking one man in the face. He falls into another. The fight is over almost immediately. She finishes off with a spinning kick, planting her foot on the redhead's nose, smashing it. His head snaps back and he stumbles backwards into a table. He slumps against a chair. Melinda turns to Skye, assessing her for any injuries.

“I’m fine,” Skye waves her away. “Just … shaken up, I guess.”

“Whatever they told you, you aren’t,” May says firmly. “You understand? You’re better than that.”

“What if they told me I was perfect?” Skye tries to joke but it comes out flat.

The manager brings them each a coffee in a takeaway cup. “Thank you,” he says to May. To Skye: “I’m sorry.”

They smile at him.

“Did they?” May asks.

“What? Oh, no,” Skye mutters. “But they might’ve.”

“Their version of perfect isn’t perfect. You are the most annoying, most stubborn person in the world. But you’re also the kindest and most determined and you always try to do the right thing,” May tells her.

Skye gives her a weak smile. “Thanks.”

“Don’t let them define perfect.” May stands, leaving her coffee untouched. Skye eyes it. This café does really good coffee. “Take it,” May says, seeing Skye’s look.

Skye grins at her. “You know, you’d probably really like this,” she tries.

May just holds the door for her. She smiles at the manager and then follows Skye into the cold. Skye shivers and wraps her arms around herself in an attempt to hide from the gusting wind. May takes one look at the freezing girl and shrugs her jacket off, slinging it around Skye’s shoulders. Skye takes it gratefully, slipping it on. May’s body warmth is still there, lingering despite the wind trying to replace it with ice.

“Aren’t you cold?” Skye asks, teeth chattering.

May shrugs. “Not really. You’re colder.”

Skye rolls her eyes. Then the meaning of what May’s said hits her. If they were both dying, May would save her even if it killed her. She smiles at the ground. She feels May looking at her.

“What?” May asks suspiciously.

“Nothing!” Skye protests innocently.

May narrows her eyes. “Mack’s parked around the back of that shop.”

“Mack’s here?” Skye asks in surprise.

May nods. “You think the cops would let me drive while trying to trace your phone call?”

“Ah,” Skye nods.

“While we’re on this subject,” May begins because she’s noticed how Skye seems to be avoiding it, “Good job on the phone call. We’ll start training you on how to take down people bigger than you next week.”

“May,” Skye says but she ignores her.

“Get your strength up–”

“May,” Skye tries again.

“Then this won’t happen ag–”

“ _Melinda_ ,” Skye says. May’s first name rolls off her tongue nicely. It’s the first time she’s called her that.

May stops in her tracks, surprised.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Skye tells her, taking May’s hands. “Really. I’ll be better prepared next time. You’ll show me how. We’ll be okay.”

May hugs her tightly. Skye’s taken aback, not expecting this response.

“There won’t _be_ a 'next time',” she hears May say beside her ear. “Not if I can help it.”

Skye smiles and hugs May harder.

It’s nice to have someone finally looking after you.


End file.
